There's Nothing Going On
by fanficxo
Summary: It was a while before it became noticeable. John had never noticed it, and neither had Sherlock, which was surprising, seeing as it was he, who had the truly spectacular deducing skills. UST, JOHNLOCK AND STRONG LANGUAGE. Eventual sexual scenes.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

It was a while before it became _noticeable._ John had never noticed it, and neither had Sherlock, which was surprising, seeing as it _was_ he, who had the truly spectacular deducing skills. But to everyone around them, it was so _obvious_, even to Anderson. The way they looked at each other, the way they were around each other, and the way the _depended_ on each other. But now it was staring them in the face. And John didn't know how to handle it.

He'd never been attracted to other men, but as time went on, he found that he wasn't in to women either. He only ever had time for Sherlock.

It was Sherlock who noticed it first.

...

John was at work, annoyingly, and he had to go to the crime scene without him. Lestrade gave him the address of a small council house, two floors, not very well kept. Neglected gardens. Home to a rather large family, judging by the toys and shoes that littered the hallways.

"Ah, Sherlock, glad you're here, his Mum found him, just died when she got there, died from some sort of drug, nothing found on him though" Lestrade then looked at him funny. "Where's John?" Lestrade asked.

"At work, let's not waste time with idol chatter, show me the crime scene" Sherlock snapped.

He'd never admit it, but he rather disliked being without John. It felt... strange.

_'Sentiment' _Sherlock reminded himself. He told himself to stop being so _human_. Lestrade lead him into a darken room, with a man slouched in the corner, late teens or early twenties, white as a sheet. Sherlock scanned the room looking at the details he was certain the useless lot here would had missed out. No signs or struggle, open window, man died of substance abuse. Mistaken of a murder because of the lack of drugs found on the body. Sherlock shot outside, and found the window. He looked in the greenery and found a small plastic packet, a spoon and a needle. Oh my god Scotland Yard was thick.

He went back inside and shoved the found objects in Lestrade'd hand.

"It was an accidental heroin overdose. Surely you and your team could have done this without my help? Are you blind as well as stupid?" Sherlock basically growled.

Wasting his time, because _they_ wanted a quick answer.

"How?" Lestrade managed to get out.

"Living with the family, got into drugs through a gang, looking at that tattoo" Sherlock pointed at some sort of logo that was on the mans left arm. "Was new to drugs, due the the frankly _alarming_ amount he took, probably to impress the gang, took to much, chucked the stuff out the window when he heard the family coming in, didn't want to get caught, and collapsed in the corner and died"

When Sherlock had finished his deduction, he looked for John with smile already forming on his face. It soon slipped off when he realized he wasn't there. He realized he only ever bothered saying the deductions out loud because he wanted to see John smile and tell him he was brilliant. Sherlock cursed under his breath. Lestrade wasn't as stupid as he thought he was, because he noticed.

"Sherlock, it's ok to miss him" Lestrade said cautiously.

"I have no idea what you're on about Lestrade" Sherlock said neutrally.

"Well that'd be a first" Lestrade mumbled under his breath, loud enough for Sherlock to hear him.

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows, then swept out of the house, in a worse mood than before. Boredom was inevitable. When Sherlock got into a cab, and gave him his address, thought of John. He doesn't know how he stands having a job. It must drive him insane.

Good job he's got Sherlock to give him some excitement in his life.

...

When he get's home, he finds John sitting in his usual chair, reading the newspaper.

"How was the case?" John asks straight away.

"Dull" He replies.

"Hungry?" John asks, already getting up to look at the takeaway menus.

Sherlock doesn't answer, which means 'whatever', so John orders enough Chinese for two people. When it comes, John asks when was the last time he had eaten.

"Well, what day is it today?"

"Tuesday"

"Last... er, Thursday"

John gives him _the look._ It's the look that means, no matter what Sherlock says, he will be eating whether he likes it or not. John doesn't even reply, he simply piles food on to a plate and hands it Sherlock with a fork.

"You will eat all of that, or I'm dragging you to a hospital where they'll keep you in for days" John states, leaving no room for discussion. Not even the great Sherlock Holmes can talk his way around John, when's he's given him _that_ look and spoken in _that_ voice.

Sherlock physically cringes at the thought of it. He obeys and eats the entire thing. His heart jumps when John smiles at the empty place.

He blames the food.


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

This case had been a particularly long and tiring for the both of them. And Sherlock still has no clue, to how the killer ended up surrounded by police at the side of the Thames, gun to John's head, holding him hostage. Sherlock watched in horror was the killer moved both him and John, closer and closer to the railing. The police were given no choice but to shoot. As soon as the shot hit the killer in the head, he fell over the railing, hitting the water with a bone breaking splash.

So did John.

Sherlock immediately ran to the edge, just in time to see John disappear under the water. Sherlock started running, not caring about shoving the police officers out of the way, or Lestrade telling him to stop. He ran in the direction the currents took John and didn't look back. There were stairs some way in front, that lead down to a pebbly sand bank, at the side of the river. Sherlock kept alternating his sight from the stairs to the river. John had been underwater for nearly a minute and a half. He would have been winded hitting the water, as well, which gave him less air to survive on.

Finally Sherlock basically fell down the stone steps and stripped off his coat, chucking it aside.

"John!"

He could see John, bobbing up and down in the Thames. Sherlock quickly deduced that a current would bring John close to the shore of the sand bank, in about seven seconds, giving Sherlock the perfect chance to Get him and drag him out.

Sherlock ran into the water, wincing as it was as cold as ice. He grabbed John by his jacket, and it took him about thirty seconds to get him to the sand bank.

John lay unconscious in Sherlocks arms, leaning up against his chest. Sherlock got from behind him, and lay him on the ground. He needed mouth to mouth. Sherlock flattened John out, and placed his hand flat out on John's chest, and held his nose shut with his other hand. He tilted john's head back, so that he mouth opened, and joined his lips with John's. He blew strong and measured breaths into John's lungs, and pulled back.

John made some spluttered noises, and Sherlock quickly turned him on his side, where he threw up a large amount of water.

"John" Sherlock breathed out the breath he'd been holding for some time.

"Please will you wait here so I can get my coat?" Sherlock said quickly.

"I've never known you to ask stupid questions before, of course I'm staying here, I doubt I can move yet" John croaked with a stuttered laugh at the end.

He felt like crying of relief. Sherlock got up and ran over to get his coat. John was just sitting up when Sherlock got back. He draped his coat over John's shoulders, and crouched down in front of him. He just started to hear police officers shouting in the distance.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked with obvious worry in his voice.

"Nothing a hot shower and a cup of tea can't fix" John said.

Sherlock lifted both his hands and cradled John's cheeks. John sighed and immediately became more relaxed. Their foreheads leaned forward until they touched, and Sherlock watched their breaths intertwine in the air, finding comfort in the fact that John was still breathing steadily.

"Thank you, for coming for me" John mumbled.

"Of course I came for you, I'd be lost without my blogger"

John laughed. But they both knew he was more than _just_ his blogger. Sherlock may have been imagining things (but we know Sherlock never imagines anything), but he saw John tilt his lips up, towards his own, inviting him to... Well, he's not quite sure what, until he's doing it himself. An over whelming want to kiss John makes his stomach fall. Their noses brush against each other time after time, waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Sherlock?! John?"

They both flinched away, and both started to get up. It was Lestrade.

"Oh thank god you're both alright! Gave us quite a scare John"

"Not getting rid of me that easily" John joked, and Sherlock hoped it was true.

John goes to give Sherlock back his coat, but he shakes his head.

"Nope keep it, you are in a much worse condition than me"

John blushed faintly red and walks towards the steps. Sherlock watches him go for a while, before his thoughts are rudely interrupted by Lestrade.

"Wow, never seen anybody so besotted before"

Sherlock looks at him.

"I have no idea what you're implying Lestrade. I suppose I'll see you tomorrow for the reports"

He doesn't wait for an answer, and walks swiftly off, catching up with John.

...

John is waiting for him next to a cab by the time he catches up with him, looking freezing and incredibly tired.

"221B Baker Street" He says to the cabbie, and gets in first. Sherlock follows suit.

Once inside, the cab doesn't provide much heat whatsoever. Sherlock can see that John is shivering like mad. He puts his arm around him and pulls him close. At first John is startled and tense, but then he starts to relax, enjoying the body heat, and his shivers slowly diminish.

Sherlock pays the driver, whilst John opens the door and they both get quickly inside.

"I'm having then going bed. Sorry about your coat" John hands it him back.

"At least you won't die of hypothermia"

John smirks and goes to the bathroom.

Sherlock deduces he'll be 45 minutes in their, and it takes approximately 3 minutes to make tea. He estimates it perfectly, handing John his tea as soon as he comes out the bathroom.

John looks genuinely surprised, but in a good way, and takes the tea with a cautious smile.

"There's nothing in this, right?" John asks.

Sherlock schools his face to look shocked at his accusation, knowing full well he has put enough sleeping tablets in there to make sure he isn't awoken by any nightmares. He needs his rest.

"No of course not"

John takes a large gulp and smiles, then takes his tea up to his room.

No nightmares occur that night.


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

**Take note: Written from John's POV kinda**

* * *

It's not until two weeks after that incident, another clog turns in their relationship, causing the line between friend and boyfriend, to blur even more. John had accidentally developed a sort of... crush on Sherlock Holmes. Well, it was stronger and more prominent than a crush, John wasn't sure what it was, but it was something. It was since that night when Sherlock had jumped into the Thames to save him, performed mouth to mouth, given him his coat, then almost kissed him. Not to mention that hug in the back of the cab. It's then that he also noticed, how Sherlock treated him. He treated him as an equal, taking his opinion into consideration, and actually doing as he asked him.

"Right, I'm off to bed" John said after closing his newspaper.

He got up and Sherlock was sprawled on the sofa, as per usual, he didn't even bother to reply.

John climbed the stairs and got into bed after stripping to his boxers. His head hit the pillow and he was fast asleep.

...

Something had woken him, he was being pulled up towards consciousness. His eyes snapped open, and the door was opening.

Sherlock looked at him, he was in his silky dressing gown.

Sherlock came straight in and closed the door behind him.

"Sherlock what are you doing?" John started the panic.

Sherlock simply ignored him and lifted the covers and got in. John froze and just stared at him, head still on the pillow. John thought of a million questions to ask him, but all he could muster up was:

"Jesus, your dressing gown is freezing"

Sherlock looked at him, portraying an emotion like acceptance on his face, and he sat up, took off his dressing gown. Underneath, he to was wearing just his boxers.

"I'm tired and cold, John" Sherlock whined.

John's hand accidentally brushed against Sherlock's arm, and he was right. Touching his skin was like touching ice. Sherlock was shivering, and the only thing John could think to do was hug him. He turned Sherlock to the side and wrapped his arm around his waist. Sherlock placed his hands on his chest gently.

"I'll warm you up for half an hour, but after that you're going back to your own bed, ok?" John said as sternly as he could.

Sherlock just grumbled and tucked his head on the underside of John's neck, taking a deep breath that made John's eyes flutter shut.

After that he doesn't know what happened, but he wakes up with them both clinging onto each other. John couldn't bring himself to move he was just too cozy. The thought ran through his mind that a single, straight man shouldn't be doing this with his flatmate but he couldn't bring himself to care at all.

That's when he knew he felt something stronger than friendship towards Sherlock; something more than a crush.

...

They didn't speak about how they had slept in the same bed, or about how it was becoming a normal occurrence. John was becoming used to waking up with curly hair in his face or strong warm arms wrapped around him.

At least Sherlock was getting more sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

A few weeks rolled by, nothing really changing except for the more intimate side of their friendship. Sherlock would sleep in his bed about three to four times a week. Each time they would not 'cuddle' (who is he kidding) they would just hold each other to get the optimum position which was most comfortable to each of them. Yes. That was it.

Waking up was pleasurable. Sherlock wouldn't wake him up by getting up, nor would John. John would never admit it, but he liked watching Sherlock sleep. He looked younger and less troubled. John bet it was the only time his brain wasn't spiraling out of control with thoughts.

Then John had a nightmare. It was a particularly bad one, which caused him to shoot up in bed. Sherlock was already awake (John was shouting out in his sleep, and Sherlock was a terribly light sleeper) his hands on Johns shoulders.

"John, John listen to me, it's me Sherlock we are in Baker Street-"

And in some delirious state, John hugged him tightly and whispered:

"Don't ever leave me, ever"

Sherlock nodded and hugged John tighter. John could have sworn Sherlock placed a feather light kiss on his temple, just before he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

...

The morning was a little awkward, John having lost half his dignity to Sherlock, and Sherlock obviously worried about his mental state. It was weird to see Sherlock worry over someone, usually being so distant from his emotions. They would catch each others eyes then look away blushing, like two teenage love birds.

Sherlock was being nice than usual, he even made him tea. Well, he got Mrs Hudson to make it as he has no idea how, but it's the thought that counts.

Lestrade came over to bring some paper work that needed filling out by Sherlock. He watched Sherlock in awe as he made John a tea (the second one; according to John) and offered Lestrade one.

"What the hell has happened to Sherlock?!"

They both laughed and ignored the question.

Once the paperwork was done and Lestrade was gone, it was around tea time, so they went to Angelo's. Sherlock actually ate, much to Angelo's delight, and couldn't take his eyes off John.

He was going to kiss him tonight.

He had decided. It was going to be slow and romantic.

But all good plans fail. They'd finished eating and not paid of course, and they were walking back.

"Taxi!" Sherlock shouted and one stopped on the other side of the road.

Sherlock was looking behind, smiling at John, when a car hit John.

...

Later, at the hospital, Sherlock sat at the edge of the bed, awaiting John to wake up. Thankfully the knock had just been enough to render him unconscious but not give any permanent damage. As soon as he wakes up, he could go home. But John never did anything quickly.

Sherlock was getting more an more irritated and snappy, causing nurses and doctors to avoid them altogether.

Mycroft had to put a word in to make sure people left them alone till John woke up.

"Sherlock, may I remind you, caring is not an advantage"

Mycroft stood behind him, watching them. Observing what most people would over look. Except Sherlocks love for John was not missed by even the most simple of minds.

"Haven't you got better things to be doing like fixing elections?"

"Oh brother, your knowledge on politics really is poor"

Mycroft didn't need to see is face to know Sherlock was pouting. Mycroft left it at that, walking out the place with a small smile on his face.

...

Sherlock waited next to Johns bed, never moving or letting his eyes wander from John. John woke up the next day to find Sherlock next to his bed, holding onto his hand with bone crushing force.

"What-"

"You were hit by a car two days ago"

"My hand-"

"Oh sorry" Sherlock flinched away from his hand "We can go home now"

Sherlock gave a tentative smile then rushed out the room, leaving John extremely confused.


	5. Chapter 5

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

Back at Baker Street, when John fully recovered from his unfortunate and cock blocking accident, the unresolved sexual tension was reaching high levels. Lestrade swore he wouldn't come over until they kissed, because every time he did, he had to endure the never ending glances between them, as they could not take their eyes off each other. Even at crime scenes, John was hanging off Sherlocks every word and Sherlock was constantly looking for Johns approval.

Even Mrs Hudson stopped coming up whilst they were in, even she couldn't stand it.

Then there was the case of the red headed. The basic outline of the case was that there were five clubs in London, which were being targeted by a serial killer, who picked up red headed girls and violently murdered them, taking their heart with him.

Literally.

The crimes scenes were gory as hell.

So John and Sherlock were put undercover in a club, which just so happened to be a gay bar. They sat in a booth, huddled close together where they could see everyone but nobody could really see them.

"Deduce him"

To pass time John was getting Sherlock to deduce anyone of his choosing. It was fun finding out everyone's deep dark secrets. John was laughing at one of Sherlocks deductions, when a guy around their age came along.

"Hey, you mind if I buy you a drink sweet heart" He said to John.

"Excuse me" Sherlock said, whilst placing his hand extremely close to Johns penis. "That's my boyfriend you are hitting on"

Johns heart jumped at the touch, and the guy looked Sherlock up and down then walked away.

"Thanks"

"Your welcome" Sherlock said, still not removing his hand. They sat like that for a while until the man was completely out of sight.

He then moved it to over his shoulders. And then started to brush his lips against his neck.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?"

"We need to make sure people leave us alone whilst not drawing attention to ourselves and so people don't approach us. This is the best solution I can think of"

"You have got to be- oh!" John gasped when Sherlock sucked a little harder at his neck.

"Just go with the flow" Sherlock mumbled in between the ever growing confident kisses. "You watch all the red heads and see who approaches them whilst I do... This" He sucked and lapped harder at Johns neck, causing his eyes to feel heavy.

"We can alternate every hour or so" Sherlock added.

And that's how John ended up with twenty love bites all over his neck and collar bone within an hour. Sherlock had started to use his hands to feel every part of Johns body.

"Anything?"

"What?" John said, very distracted with what Sherlocks tongue was doing when he wasn't talking.

"Anything suspicious going on?"

John realized he had totally forgotten what they were actually doing.

"Er?"

He looked around and saw the same four red heads that were there before were still there now. All was good.

"Nope, nothing"

"Ok let's swap, maybe I can see something"

Sherlock then proceeded to lift John on to his lap, right so their cocks were just touching, and place his hands on Johns ass.

John carefully placed a kiss on Sherlocks jawline, gaining confidence as he worked up and down his neck, Sherlock moaned as John began to give him a love bite, paying him back for the bruises he'd left on his own neck.

Who would know Sherlock was good at this type of thing?

"John?"

John hummed as Sherlocks collarbone was much more important.

"One of the girls is leaving with a guy, shall we follow them?"

John pulled back.

"We'll isn't it why we are here in the first place?"

"Yes"

"Well lets go then"

They stared at each other and made no attempt to move. They waited for the other to say something, and John let his yes drift down to the very large love bites he had done on his neck. Sherlock touched where he was looking and John blushed.

John got up.

"Come on let's go, and put your scarf on. That's just embarrassing, sorry I got so carried away" John gave a nervous chuckle and led the way out of the bar and into the street, where the man with the red headed woman helped her get into a taxi where she drove home alone.

"It was a long shot anyway, lets see how the others got on at the other clubs"

Sherlock phoned Lestrade to find they had actually caught the killer, he had given himself up easily once they had surrounded him. Sherlock was obviously disappointed, liking the thrill of the chase. He looked at John and told him what had happened. He couldn't help but look at the scattered red marks littering his neck. Johns cheeks went redder.

"Well I don't know about you but I want a cup of tea" John broke the silence.

"Taxi!" John called and one stopped right away.


	6. Chapter 6

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

"Oh boys, I've got your milk, I was going to- OH!" Mrs Hudson cried out in surprise.

John and Sherlock looked at her, and at each other, then looked back at her. Why was she shocked at?

It dawned on Sherlock. The love bites. Then on John. John tried to cover it up with his jumper but it was too obvious.

"It was for a case" Sherlock said.

Mrs Hudson nodded slowly an placed the milk on the table. She immediately regretted not waiting until they had rushed out on another case.

"Got another case coming up Sherlock?"

"No waiting for Lestrade to call"

"Oh, your quiet, for being in between cases and all"

To perfectly honest, what John and Sherlock failed to realize, that for the past hour, the had been undressing each other with their eyes, literally staring at each other for more than an hour.

"Oh I've had experiments as such to be getting on with" He looked at John where they began to eye fuck each other in front of Mrs Hudson.

She backed out the room and ran downstairs.

...

"John"

"Yes?"

"Have you ahem- lo- er... bruises faded yet?"

"Er yes pretty much" John cleared his throat.

"Good"

They went back to reading the paper and book. Sherlock didn't like it. He wanted to show everybody John was his.

...

It was two weeks later, and the case had been mediocre. Very easy for Sherlock to solve, so they'd been Angelo's and had dinner to fill up some time. On the way back they decided to race each other back, after a long winded argument about who was the fastest.

"Ready set go!" John sped ahead, giggling at the silliness of it all.

Sherlock followed him, running as fast as he could, trying to overtake him in the most efficient way possible.

Before they knew it, they were running through the greenery of the park, and John stopped suddenly, realizing he couldn't get through the bush as it had become to thick, and Sherlock ran straight into the back of him, pushing them both over into the mud. They were well hidden within the leaves, laughing away at their stupidness on the ground.

"We are grown men" John pointed out as they were laughing and lying down in the mud.

"We are not normal" John added on.

Sherlock stopped laughing and propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at John.

John stopped laughing as well.

Out of a flare of confidence, John reached up and cradled Sherlocks face with his hand. Sherlock melted into the small embrace. They made eye contact.

Time even for Sherlock seemed to slow down, it was like the entire world depended on this moment. And I guess their worlds did. Sherlocks eyes fluttered downwards and touched one of Johns love bites. Sherlock gave a tentative smile and kissed it lightly. He pulled back and resumed eye contact with John.

They were so close. So close to having their first kiss.

Three masked men interrupted and knocked them both unconscious. Neither of them had even heard them approach.


	7. Chapter 7

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

Sherlock woke up with blinding pain at the back of his head, and a split lip. He could feel he was tied up, with thick rope. It would be a temporary stay then. It was dark, only a sliver of light seeping through a not quite closed curtain. Sherlock groaned as he heard footsteps come closer.

"Sherlock Holmes. Not as pretty as you are in the papers"

"Maybe that has something to do with the fact you've beaten me half to death"

Sherlock couldn't help but snap out a witty retort.

"Ah, but Holmes, it was necessary. Couldn't have you or your.. Companion, getting away now could we?"

Sherlocks head snapped upwards. There he was met with a butch tanned man, arms covered in tattoos, jet black hair gelled backwards. Black jeans and a short sleeved black top. Stereotypical american gangster.

"If you do anything to John, I will make sure you endure the most painful death imaginable"

The man smirked. Drug dealer judging by the white powder underneath his finger nails and needle pricks in his arms. Obvious.

"You've rather shown your cards there, at a terribly early stage. I was told you were good"

"Oh I'm better than good. I'm fantastic. I'm the best" Sherlock assured him.

The man found his facts amusing.

"Well Mr Holmes. I'm not one to beat around the bush, but Scotland Yard has been a little close to my drug ring and I need you to lead them off course. I know they take your word as gospel, so don't tell me you can't do it. Your payment will be Johns life. Agree?"

"Will you give me five minutes to think it through?"

"Two minutes"

He walked out along with the guards which were at the back of the room. They locked the door twice. Two locks, nice touch. Sherlock knew John would be close by, but he knew he wouldn't keep his word, and keep John longer and make him do other jobs. And Sherlock didn't want to do that. And what Sherlock didn't want to do, he wouldn't do.

Sherlock quickly formulated a plan, easy as the drug dealers were way out of their depths with Sherlock, and they had underestimated him greatly.

...

John woke up to a migraine and bruised eye and cheek. He was on a gravelly floor in a small dark room. He looked up at the small gap in the wall, emitting some light. It hurt his eyes. It didn't take him long to work out that that he'd been held hostage as a reward for making Sherlock do something. It wasn't a secret anymore that Sherlock was the best of the best.

John got up and realized his hands and feet were tied with rope. He knew all he had to do was wait for Sherlock to come and get him.

He sat himself up in the corner and began to wait.

Two men dressed in black burst into the room and held him down against the wall. John tried to struggle but they were too strong and he was too weak with lack of food and water. They pulled out a needle and stabbed it into his neck.

"Ah shit what was th-uh" Johns vision tunneled, then he blacked out.

...

Sherlock waited for them to come back and he agreed to what they wanted him to do. They let him walk out the place unblindfolded which was another mistake as Sherlock could now create a basic plan of the place in his mind.

Sherlock was disappointed with the whole situation, because it was sadly easy to sort out.

He had called Mycroft, got all the information he needed, broke into the place, found John, carried him out as he was unconscious and got Mycroft to 'sort out' the gang, so they never bothered him again.

Embarrassingly easy.

Although he did feel physically sick when he saw John slouched up against the wall, completely blacked out. He'd been drugged by some injection; that much was obvious.

Sherlock got John into a cab, where he huddled against him in his dreamy state. Sherlock smiled and told the cabbie where to take them.

When they got back to Baker Street, he paid the cabbie and lunged John out the back seat. He was slowly becoming more and more conscious, but he was still a bit delirious. He was mumbling nonsense and it didn't make sense.

"Uh that toaster, which it'd fly away and marry the grass already" John said when they got into Johns bedroom.

Sherlock chuckled, and John turned and looked at him like he'd only just realized he was there.

"Sherlock?"

"Yes John?"

"When did you get here?"

"I've been here a-" Sherlock was cut off by John as he began to speak again.

"You know Sherlock, I think I might be in lo-" And John was cut off by his own vomit.


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

John awoke with a cloudy mind and cramp in his bad leg. And the smell of bleach. And a face full of brown curly locks.

John shot up, just to change the dull pain in his head to a sharp pain, screwing his eyes shut. Sherlock was waking up next to him, with his arm still flung around Johns waist.

"What is it John?" Sherlock asked.

"Wha-"

"We were kidnapped by American drug dealers, wanted me to do something or other for them, used you as a reward, easily avoided, bit disappointed really" Sherlock then yawned.

"Go back to sleep" Sherlock mumbled into Johns neck, and John lent back down.

When he was lying down, Sherlock put his leg in between Johns, and tighten his grip on Johns waist.

"Why do I smell bleach?"

"Oh you were drugged which made you sick. You were a bit delirious, it was mildly amusing"

"Oh"

John put his arms around Sherlocks neck and wrapped his legs around one of Sherlocks.

"Haven't you got a case to do?"

"No, go to sleep John"

And he did.

...

He woke up again and this time it was getting dark. His head was better but still contained a dull pain whirling around in his skull. John turned on his side and found Sherlock was no longer there, and the violin playing downstairs. He was composing. John stretched his body and arched his back, causing the bed to squeak. The violin playing stopped; Sherlock had heard him.

He got out of bed to find he was only in his boxers, so he wrapped a dressing gown around him. He went downstairs to find sitting in his chair.

"Feeling better?"

"Much. Tea?"

Sherlock nodded. John went into to kitchen and proceeded to boil the kettle. Sherlock stood up and followed him in.

"John?"

"Yes?" John said, although he didn't turn around from the kettle, which had jut finished boiling so he started to pour the tea.

"I'm tired"

"What?" John asked, really confused to where this was going. He put the kettle down and stopped making the tea.

"I'm tired of waiting"

"Waiting for what?"

"For you. To kiss me"

John turned around to check he'd heard right. Sherlock was closer than anticipated, he was just a few steps away from him. John was surprised to see of the first time that Sherlock was unsure of himself. He was shifted from side to side a little and messing with his hands. John was still in shock.

"What? Sorry I must've heard wrong"

"Did you though?" Sherlock said in a low husky voice, gaining in confidence.

John isn't too clear on what happens next, whether Sherlock went to him, or if he went to Sherlock, or if they met half way, but he sure as hell knows that was their first kiss.

Sherlock, holding John close by the small of his back, and Johns hands on the back on Sherlocks head and neck. Sherlock immediately placed a bruising kiss on Johns lips, then started to deepen the kiss by using his tongue to widen Johns lips. It was hot, fierce and desperate. Gentle kisses and slow actions could be saved for a later date, these two had been waiting too long.

Their tongues find each other in the madness and slide over the other, creating a moan from Sherlocks throat that sends them both to the edge.

"John, I need-need you"

"God yes, yes- Sherlock"

Hands were everywhere. Undoing belts, buttons, in Johns hair, tugging down Sherlocks pants.

...

Somehow they had made it to Sherlocks bed (it was closer than Johns bedroom) and were now both lying there, panting and breathless.

"How long?" John asked.

"How long what?"

"Since when, have you, you know..."

"Oh. Since. Well I don't really know, all I know is that I became aware of it that time you fell into the Thames. What about you?"

"Yes. The same time. Around there" John turns his head to look at Sherlock and Sherlock looks at John.

"You almost kissed me that night" John states.

"Yes. I wish I had. Then we could have been doing this the whole time"

"Oh my god we are idiots" John jokes.

Sherlock then slides his fingers underneath a Johns chin, and kisses him. Deeply and long. It's a kiss full of promises and futures. They slowly pull away, and only because they need air.

They then giggled.


	9. Chapter 9

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK

* * *

They wake up with tangled limbs and messy hair. It's early. The sun is rising. John is still just waking, so Sherlock checks his phone. A singular text from Lestrade.

_"Will come over around nine to finish some reports. Lestrade."_

Sherlock looked at the clock. It's ten to nine. Sherlock jumps out of bed and slips on his dressing gown. Lestrade has seen him dressed in a sheet before so it's alright. He goes into the kitchen and boils the kettle. He tries to clear the table as much as he can, he turns and finds John slouched up against the door.

Sherlock thinks he look adorable in that 'sleepy' state, as John rubs his eyes. He just wants to kiss him.

"Who's coming over?"

"Lestrade. Needs to finish reports. I've made tea"

John walks straight up to him and kisses him.

"I've always wanted to do that. When you look all tired" John mumbles into his neck.

"Same to you. I was just thinking that, actually"

They giggle again, and hold each other, content.

They kiss again.

"Oh my god it took you long enough"

They snap back and see Lestrade in the doorway, looking incredibly smug.

"Although, I lose a bet to Mrs Hudson, I thought you'd be quicker than this, being the _deducting_ master and all that"

Sherlock and John stand there in shock as Lestrade sits down at the kitchen table and carries on talking.

"A whole hundred pound. Should have known you be oblivious. You being a sociopath. Well, supposedly. Anyway, we've got reports to be getting on with"

Johns mouth gapes. Lestrade looks at them.

"Oh come on guys. You've been all over each other since the day you met. Nobody's going to be surprised. Now, I don't want to spend all day doing this, so lets crack on"

Sherlock snapped into action and sat down opposite Lestrade.

Once John had showered and dressed, he went into the kitchen to find them both in the same position as he'd left them in, deep in work.

"I'll go shopping, see you in a bit"

He went to leave, but he heard a chair squeak and a hand turn him around. Sherlock kissed him.

"Could you possibly get a pigs heart and roast potatoes? Oh and maybe a tongue? Please?"

John nodded.

"Of course. Why the roast potatoes? Not your usual choice for experiments"

"Oh they aren't for an experiment. I feel like eating roast potatoes tonight"

John smiles and then kisses him one last time before leaving to the shops.

"You're really in for it, you know Sherlock"

Sherlock spins around and is reminded that Lestrade is still there. He completely forgotten. What the hell is happening to him?

"What?"

"You are completely _besotted_ with John. Aren't you? You deserve it. Both of you do"

"Thank you" Sherlock says.

He can barely finish the reports.

He's too busy thinking about John.

...

John gets back at six at night. It took him ages to get a human tongue. Molly was there, and inquired about a love bite that he hadn't even noticed Sherlock had put there. Again.

"Sherlock. Gave you. A love bite?" Molly said sounding completely unconvinced.

He decided it would be easier to to come clean. Lestrade knew anyway and it would probably be half way around Scotland Yard by now. God knows how Donavan and Anderson are going to react.

"Yeah it's quite complicated but we are... Well, w-we're a couple now"

Molly's jaw literally drops.

"Since when?" She asks.

"Well to be honest, just from last night"

"Really?"

"Yeah, it was... kind of romantic, in a weird way" John gives Molly a nervous smile.

It was a uncomfortable end to a conversation, as it was common knowledge that Molly had a crush on Sherlock. And although John had told him not to, Sherlock still used this to his advantage.

He got the tongue and left as quick as he could.

...

He called a cab and hurried back to Baker Street.

Sherlock advances on him, as soon as he is through the door, kissing his jaw, cheeks, neck, and finally, lips, causing him to drop all his shopping bags, and even this doesn't stop Sherlock from kissing him.

"I'm making up for lost time" Sherlock mumbles through his desperate kisses.

"Don't you want to put all this away first?" John pants.

"No, too distracted" Sherlock says before getting to work on stripping John of his clothes.

...

**Epilogue.**

Sherlock was never one for emotions, so being with John, caused him to invest everything he had into their relationship. People who watched the couple, couldn't believe the difference in Sherlock when he was with John. It was like true love, some people, even Donovan (though she'd never admit it), believed in soul mates because of those two.

Sherlock would make John coffee, even started to clean up after his experiments.

John is the happiest he's ever been, and so is Sherlock. And they will forever laugh at their stupid denial before, that there was nothing going on.


End file.
